


what to do

by orphan_account



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Not Idolverse, hyunwoo is an artist, jooheon’s in a band, post-military au, the ending is just a sudden cut off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After discharged from the military Hyunwoo goes back to live with his parents. He’s void of the passion he once had for painting, but finds new inspiration in Jooheon, the drummer from a garage rock band.(this work is unfinished)
Relationships: Lee Jooheon/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	what to do

**Author's Note:**

> found this in my docs from 2019 and i lost all my inspiration for writing it so unfortunately,,, it’ll never be finished. but sorta still like what i wrote and showheon nation lives off crumbs so. enjoyy

Hyunwoo’s alarm goes off at 5:45 every morning. Most days he’s already awake before it chimes.

He’s out of bed by 6, enough time to stretch before he slips on his sweatpants and sneakers and heads out the door. He jogs a path south of his parent’s house, the streets are less crowded during early hours, so he doesn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone.

Lately, he’s been detouring from his usual routine to a nearby park. He follows an off beat trail to a hidden nook near the river, where he can rip out a quick 10 minute AMRAP or whatever he feels he can do that day standing in a grassy clearing without a chin up bar or weights to lift.

On his way back home he stops by a convenience store, purchases a bottled water and triangle kimbap, the pork one, and if any benches happen to be unoccupied (they usually are) he sits. As of late, the air has become pleasantly crisp and chilly, the trees are beginning to turn beautiful shades of yellow and orange, so he spends his breakfast admiring them in comfortable silence.

When he heads back home, he decides to give himself a break and walk a more leisurely pace, enjoying the scenery while it's still blissfully calm. He dips his head politely to the passersby; the man raking leaves off the sidewalk, the woman and her small cotton ball of a dog that nips at his ankles, the cyclist who barely nearly runs him off the sidewalk. They all move with a sense of purpose to their actions, purpose he finds himself lacking more now than ever. He tries not to dwell on that the remainder of his walk home.

A headrush of familiar smells greet him as he opens the front door, he finds his mother in the kitchen, plating various vegetable sides for her and his father’s breakfast. She smiles at him upon his entrance, waving him over as she sets a few hot dishes on the table, he bends down a bit so she can easier reach him for the kiss on the cheek he's learned to expect.

She recoils a moment before her lips reach his cheek, gently swatting him with the back of her hand. “You’re all sweaty.” She tuts.

“Ah, sorry.” he says “I was planning on showering when I got back.”

“Go now then, and make it quick.” She shoos him with a wave of her hand, turning back to the various unplated foods littering the countertop and stove. “Your father and I will wait for you to eat.”

“Don’t bother waiting, I’ve already eaten-”

“Who is this? My son never turns down my food!” She quips, brushing past him with a bowl of broth in hand.

“Mom..” He steps forward and reaches a hand toward her, in some vain attempt to offer help that she makes clear is unneeded.

“Go, get yourself washed up.” Hyunwoo knows better than to test her patience. So he quietly slips away to the quaint bathroom of the house and strips down for a shower.

The water is cold and refreshing against the heat still simmering beneath his skin. He falls into his usual routine, lathers his body, washes his face, and lets the cool water rinse the sweat from his hair. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he’s toweling himself dry. For a moment, his reflection looks almost unfamiliar, and as he runs a hand over his head, the hairs beneath his fingers feel like they belong to someone else. A new him, maybe.

His hair has grown into the awkward stage between buzzed and an acceptable length. As he runs his fingers through the hair behind his ears, he firmly decides he may be in need of a haircut.

He’ll schedule one later.

With a towel loosely wrapped around his waist he wanders into his bedroom, pleasantly surprised to find a stack of neatly folded laundry on his bed. He dresses himself in a pair of clean clothes before rejoining his mother, now accompanied by his father, at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, son.” His father says with a chipper smile.

“G’morning.” There’s less inflection in his own voice when he replies. He leans over the table for a kiss on the cheek now that he’s cleaned up, his mother happily complies.

“So handsome~” She says, sporting the same close-lipped smile as his father while she watches him sit back in his chair. He dips his head shyly. compliments can be difficult for him to take, even when they come from family. His eyes wander to the breakfast laid out in front of them. He takes a deep inhale, the nostalgic smell of guksu noodles and bean sprout soup causes his stomach to grumble in anticipation.

They fall into comfortable silence while they eat, only broken by the occasional question about his morning or discussion of today’s household chores. For most of the meal, the conversation is as simple as that, and he feels comforted by the short silences inbetween chatter. It’s not until he’s finishing his second bowl of broth that his mother brings up other subject matter.

“Have you talked to any of your friend’s since you’ve been back?” She says. It’s a reasonable question, and he knows that, but he still finds himself tensing up at the question. He simply shakes his head in response, which makes her frown, and he suppresses his gut reaction to apologize. “I think they’d be happy to hear from you. Do they know you’re home?”

They probably do, but he won’t say that. His mom still thinks he has friends lol

“It’d be good for you to get out. Socialize a bit.” His father adds. He wonders faintly if this was some kind of plan, something they discussed last night before bed. They probably say a lot about him behind his back, worried about the recluse their son has become. He feels guilt curl in his stomach at the thought of his parents kept awake at night because of him.

“I‘ll think about it.” He says through a mouthful of namul.

They both nod, and glance at each other, communicating something wordlessly. Then his mom turns back to him.

“We were talking to some friends of ours, and they have a lovely daughter.” She says. “So, we thought you two should have dinner.”

“Today?” He asks, anxiety prickling beneath the skin of his throat.

“No, we told them Tuesday. You don’t work that night, do you?” That’s a bit better, he thinks, a little longer to mentally prepare himself.

“I don’t.” He says, not bothering to make up some other excuse, he doesn’t have much reason to say no. Other than the reason he’s not comfortable sharing with his parents quite yet, he may never be.

“Good.” She smiles at that, blissfully unaware of her son’s lack of interest in the date. She reaches out a hand to take his own and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. It's just, you’re 28 now, you need to put yourself out there.”

Hyunwoo nods, and smiles back, it feels less genuine than he‘d like. If his mother notices, she doesn’t comment on it, turning back to his father to discuss other neighborhood gossip.

He sits quietly, only catching a few keywords of their conversation, the idea of reaching out a friend weighs heavy on his mind.

It’s odd, having heard for so long how unreadable he is from strangers to friends alike, he sometimes forgets how easily his parents can see right through him. Right to the loneliness at his core, something he’d thought he hid well.

Maybe he underestimates how much his mother and father know about him, but maybe not, if he judges from their choice of date for him.

۵

For the next few hours, he busies himself around the house, helping his mother with any miniscule task possible, all the while he thinks about what they’d said. Maybe he should call a friend, he hasn’t talked to anyone outside of work besides the occasional small talk with a store clerk or a elderly neighbor in passing.

While he’s washing the dirty dishes from lunch, he finally makes a decision on who he’s going to call. As the phone rings, he starts to second guess himself, but it's too late to back out because Minhyuk’s voice comes through the other line with a cheery “Hello?”.

“Hello.” He says back, it comes out quieter than he intended, but Minhyuk responds before he can repeat himself.

“Who’s this?” He asks.

“Hyunwoo.” He holds his phone between his ear and shoulder, hands occupied drying his mother’s delicate plates.

“Hyunwoo!” Minhyuk yells, incredulous. Hyunwoo flinches and nearly drops a dish. “You’re back?”

“Yeah, I have been for a few months actually—” His explanation is cut short.

“What?” Minhyuk shouts. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” He sounds genuinely hurt, Hyunwoo frowns and leans his weight into the counter.

“I’m sorry,” He says quietly. “I’ve just been.. struggling to settle back in.” It’s a vague answer, but Minhyuk doesn’t question it.

“Ah, I understand.” His tone has softened. Hyunwoo feels a rush of relief, a bit of the tension in his shoulders relaxes.

There’s a beat of silence, only the clink of the plate as he sets it in the drying rack. He takes his phone back in hand, glances over his shoulder into the living room where his mother sits on the sofa reading. “Could I see you? Today?” It comes out in a whisper and sounds more desperate that he‘d like.

“I’ve got work in an hour,” Minhyuk says, and he braces himself for the rejection soon to come. “but after work I’m going to see my friend’s band play. You could join me? They’re really good, I promise.”

At this point, he’d go to a rodeo to get out of the house and see someone besides his parents for a few hours. “Okay, that works for me.”

“Great! Just get there before 8, okay?” Hyunwoo’s about to agree and hang up, his brain already succumb to social autopilot, but then he remembers Minhyuk hasn’t told him where the band is playing.

“Get where?” He asks, and glances around the kitchen for something to write on.

“Oh right, it’s a little underground bar called Never Never Land. It’s at—” There’s a pad of lined paper attached to the fridge, half a grocery list scrawled on it. “—actually, it’d be easier if I just texted you the address.”

“Okay, thank you.” He says. “I’ve already forgotten the venue name.” Minhyuk laughs, and Hyunwoo finds himself smiling for no reason in particular.

“I can’t wait to see you! I’ve missed you.” The confession catches him off guard.

“You—” The words are out of his mouth before he can think of something better. “—you too.” He can practically see Minhyuk fondly roll his eyes.

“See you later, Hyunwoo.” Minhyuk hangs up before he can reciprocate a goodbye.

۵

Hyunwoo hasn’t thought about his wardrobe in years. He became so used to limited options that he naturally gravitates toward plain neutral toned shirts and sweatpants, with the occasionally pair of jeans. Whether Minhyuk’s friends are fashion forward or not, he doubts sweatpants will make a good first impression.

Luckily, his mom didn’t move anything in his room while he was gone, so packed deep in the tight quarters of his closet are some potential clothing options. He takes a few of the less bland shirts and pants that he can find and lays them out on his bed. As he looks over them he feels very out of his depth, Minhyuk hadn’t really given him much information about the bar and he doesn’t want to stand out among the crowd. All he’s got to go on though, is a text from Minhyuk describing the social atmosphere as “edgy”. Hyunwoo owns nothing edgy.

Edgy somewhere along the line translates to dark in his mind, so he decides on a black metallica shirt he doesn’t remember buying, and a pair of slim pre-torn black jeans that he hasn’t worn in nearly three years. Miraculously, they still fit, and as he passes a mirror, he thinks, they don’t look half bad either.

7:20 rolls around sooner than he expected. He frantically ties his shoes, throws on his ratty old red bomber jacket, checks his jean pockets for his phone, wallet, and house keys, and is out the door yelling “Love you!” over his shoulder before the clock strikes 7:25. He reaches the bus station a block from his house just as a blue bus pulls up in front of it, he clambers in after a few people, pays in cash, and takes the nearest empty seat to the front. The sun’s already set and the colorful street lights pass his window in a flurry of blurs as the bus takes him toward his destination.

There’s only one stop before his own, so the busride is cut short after only fifteen minutes. He takes the rest of his journey by foot, but gets a little lost along the way, and resorts to asking a stranger on the street for directions. They give him a little bit of a weird look when he says the bar’s name, but they go out of their way to walk with him a few meters back where he’d come from, and point him to the bar’s entrance. There isn’t a landmark or street sign to show it’s existence, he’d probably walked past it a dozen times without even realizing it.

The stranger leaves him alone in an alley, ironically between two other seemingly busy pubs, neither named Never Never Land. A few people are standing around the space between the buildings, smoking and talking, their outfits are definitely “edgy” in theme, but much more elaborate and stranger than his own. They’re standing near a unlabeled door, it looks like a back exit to one of the surrounding bars, but based on the purple light shining behind it’s small window, Hyunwoo thinks it may actually be Never Never Land’s secret entrance.

The smokers pay him little mind as he passes, but he still avoids any chance of accidental eye contact by observing the various advertisements and flyers taped along the wall. He’s beginning to get an inkling of the kind of bar this is. It would’ve been useful to know that it’s hidden.

At least they can share the blame when Minhyuk inevitably scolds him for arriving later than he said he would.

He tests the door with a gentle push, and it opens with ease, behind it is a staircase that winds downward. There’s a silhouette of a fairy painted on the wall, and the faintest rock music echoing from down below, it becomes louder with every flight of steps he walks down. Two girls walk past him, dressed in bright oversized clothing and draped over one another. They whisper back and forth as they pass, the one closest to him bumps his shoulder despite there being more than enough space for them all. He hears their faint giggles above him as he finally reaches the bottom of the steps. His hand hesitates, hovering in front of the door, the music behind it is loud and distorted, he can already feel himself getting a headache.

He wills himself to push on anyway.

The door clicks closed behind him. It is much darker inside, the brick walls are painted black and the only light sources are dim and tinted purple. He’s carded immediately, his eyes still struggling to adjust as he shows his ID, the bouncer lets him pass and he walks through a thin beaded curtain into the actual bar itself.

The first thing he notices is how compact it is, and it’s filled with far more people than he’d anticipated. The walls are littered with racey posters and strange decor, and he thinks he can see a stage tucked in the back, elevated a few meters like a small island within the sea of guests. There’s a band playing already, illuminated by pink and blue spotlights, he guesses they’re the band Minhyuk had invited him there to see. He can’t quite make out the words of the lead singer, but the woman’s voice is a soothing contrast to the loud brash atmosphere of the bar.

Someone bumps into him again, pierced from head to toe, and Hyunwoo apologizes despite it not being his fault. He’s feeling more out of his depth with every passing second. Maybe it would be more enjoyable if he were buzzed. He clocks the bar to his left, but before he can make a move, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Frantically he pulls it out to check for any distraction from the sensory overload around him.

23 unread messages from Minhyuk.

He’s about to type out a response, beginning with an apology, when he hears a familiar voice yell “Hyunwoo!”. He looks up to find Minhyuk bounding toward him with that same jittery energy he’s had since the day they met. His hair is more blonde than Hyunwoo remembers.

“Minhyuk—” He’s pulled into a hug before he can properly say hello. Hesitantly he hugs back, it lasts a little longer than needed, but when they pull apart, he’s smiling as well. It’s comforting to see a familiar face.

“I said before 8!” Minhyuk shouts, still grinning playfully.

“Sorry, I got lost.” He raises his voice so he can be heard over the music.

“I’m just happy you’re here!” He outstretches a hand and Hyunwoo thinks maybe he’s going for a handshake, but then he feels long fingers wrap around his bicep. “Shit dude, you’re jacked!” He [word?] his exclamation with a squeeze.

“Ah - yeah.” Hyunwoo says, and laughs, a little embarrassed.

“C’mon, My friends are playing.” Minhyuk slides his hand down his arm, interlocks their fingers, and drags him into the crowd before he can protest.

Minhyuk’s thinner than him and has less trouble squeezing between people, he dips his head in apology to the few people who get hit by the blunt end of his shoulders. He’s mid-apology when Minhyuk stops him suddenly with a hand to his chest, and they’re both nearly pressed into the stage by the crowd accumulating behind him. He glances at Minhyuk, who’s already looking at him excitedly, gauging his reaction.

“Best view!” Minhyuk leans over to shout directly into his ear.

“Yeah.” He responds, not nearly as enthusiastic. Minhyuk doesn’t notice though, already immersed in the performance, shouting along to the lyrics.

The band plays something like garage rock, but the guitar riff feels almost psychedelic. Even up close Hyunwoo can’t really make out the singer’s words, but they’re earnest and so gentle against cutthroat rhythm behind them. He really can’t pin the music to any certain genre, but he thinks that might be what they’re going for. The song turns from hypnotizing to bewildering the moment the chorus hits, the drumming suddenly sporadic and the bassline anxiety inducing. It’s a surprisingly complex sound to come from only three musicians.

Hyunwoo’s not sure which one of them is Minhyuk’s friend, he thinks maybe they all are. Minhyuk’s always been like a magnet, attracting brilliant and interesting people, and just based on the appearance of each band member, Hyunwoo’s interest is piqued. The lead singer owns the stage, strutting along in high-heeled boots, a guitar slung over her shoulder as she belts out difficult high notes like it’s nothing. By her side is the bassist, smirking as he plays, standing dangerously close to the edge of the stage and responding to audience member’s shouting with phallic gestures. Even the drummer’s participating, shirtless and broad and drenched in sweat, standing up from behind his drum set to rile up the crowd with catchy chants.

It’s cool to see.

He feels something he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels there, it feels real, he feels part of something. So he lets himself relax, lets the people around him melt away, and becomes lost in the moment.

۵

The moment feels disappointingly quick, passing in what feels like the blink of an eye. After the stage empties and another performer takes over, Hyunwoo’s left dazed, bobbing his head to a phantom beat until Minhyuk shakes him out of it with a tug on his arm. He lets himself be pulled along, back through the crowd, and sits at the bar as Minhyuk does. They sit at the side of the bar furthest from the stage, Hyunwoo’s gaze falls to his hands as Minhyuk orders drinks, he’s babbling on about something but Hyunwoo’s not really registering any of it. He nods his head every few seconds, hoping it correlates with his words.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Hyunwoo hears that, but Minhyuk’s up and gone before he can fully process it. Now that he’s alone, he doesn’t know what to do with himself again. He leans into the bar and busies himself by attempting to read the labels of the bottled alcohol that line the shelves. The bartender sets two drinks in front of him, he thanks her but she doesn’t hear him, already onto the next order. Both beverages are the same, some sort of mixed drink he doesn’t recognize. They’re bright pink and the first sip is sickeningly sweet, not his kind of drink, but he can understand why Minhyuk likes it.

He hears the squeak of the stool beside him, a hand enters his peripheral and reaches over the counter for a bottle of vodka, meanwhile another hand grabs a shot glass. He follows the movement as it pulls back, his gaze wandering up the stranger’s tatted forearms until he meets their eyes. His own become wide when he sees that it’s the drummer, still shirtless underneath an unzipped jacket. Now that he’s seeing him up close, he realizes the guy is actually kind of cute.

Neither of them say anything, both assessing each other in their own ways. The drummer not so subtly looks him over from head to toe. Hyunwoo’s not any more subtle himself, staring at the exposed skin of his chest, distracted by the intricate inked tiger crawling out from his sleeve and onto his right pec.

“I’m Jooheon.” The drummer says, breaking their mutual silence. “Minhyuk sent me over here to get you.” He throws back a shot, the movement attracts Hyunwoo’s attention back to his face, he hadn’t even noticed him pour it.

“Okay,” He nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed, and takes both his and Minhyuk’s drinks in hand. “Then get me.”

Jooheon muffles a laugh with another shot, dimples dipping into his cheeks from the slightest upturn of his lips. Hyunwoo has the urge to reach out and feel them beneath the pad of his thumb, but he resists and introduces himself instead.

“I’m Hyunwoo, by the way.” Jooheon sets down the shot glass and looks him over again.

“Okay, Hyunwoo,” He drags it out, testing the pronunciation. It’s not a very unique name, most people in Seoul know at least three Hyunwoos, but Jooheon smiles anyway, as if he likes the way it sounds. “Let’s go.” He jerks his head to the side, gesturing for Hyunwoo to follow, and leads him around the opposite side of the bar. They pass through another tacky array of dangling beads, hung to separate the stage area from a smaller seating area. It’s less crowded than the stage and bar, but so much smaller that it hardly makes a difference. He struggles to keep up as Jooheon weeds through the tables. They spot Minhyuk simultaneously, both waving at him in unicen as they approach.

Minhyuk’s seated in a corner table that's littered with beer bottles and half empty drinks, the other band members are sitting with him, the blonde bassist wrapped up in his arms while he chats up the vocalist. Jooheon slides in beside her, and reclines backward, squishing himself into her space.

She grimaces and slaps him with the back of her hand. “Stop manspreading.”

“Okay, damn.” He frowns, lifting a hand to caress the skin she’d hit, and then shifts his legs closer together to give her a proper amount of space. Hyunwoo stands there for a moment, not really knowing where he fits in. He only grabs Minhyuk’s attention when he slides one of the sweet drinks across the table.

“Hyunwoo, have a seat.” Minhyuk says warmly, looking up at him. He’s obviously tipsy, a bit of slur to his words. There’s not much room on either side of the booth, so Hyunwoo grabs a chair from another table and sits across from them. “This is Changkyun.” Minhyuk says, patting the man he’s clinging to.

Changkyun throws up a peace sign. “Sup.” His voice is much deeper than Hyunwoo expected.

“She’s—”

“—I’m Yeojoo.” The vocalist interrupts with a polite bow of her head, her smile is sweet, a stark contrast to the grimace she’d given Jooheon just moments ago.

“Hello.” Hyunwoo greets back simply.

“And the cute one—” Minhyuk reaches over Yeojoo to grab at Jooheon’s face, he recoils and leans as far away as he can possibly get without falling onto the floor.

“He knows my name.” He says, swatting away Minhyuk’s proding fingers.

“He does?” Minhyuk looks at Hyunwoo shocked, his left eye involuntarily blinks a few times. “Have you two met before?”

Hyunwoo shakes his head.

“No, I just told him my name a few minutes ago, at the bar.” Jooheon says for him.

“Ah.” Minhyuk nods. “Well, these are my friends! Not all of them, unfortunately Dodo had to work late tonight so she couldn’t make it.”

Yeojoo sighs wistfully. “I wish she were here.. there’s too much testosterone in the air…”

“I think you’re just smelling Jooheon’s B.O.” Changkyun comments, earning a laugh from his friends. Jooheon doesn’t look as amused though, folding his arms over his chest defensively, and trying to look nonchalant as he dips his head down to sniff himself. “Forreal though, where is your shirt?”

Jooheon squints down at his bare torso, and Hyunwoo wills himself not to do the same. “I honestly can’t remember.” He shrugs and leans back, letting his jacket slip further off his shoulders and expose more inked skin to the club air. “Oh well, maybe it’ll be a souvenir for one of my fans.”

“One of your fans?” Yeojoo scoffs.

“People love me, what can I say.” Jooheon says with an over dramatic sigh, as if this is deeply burdening information.

“Pretty sure the girls come to see me.” Yeojoo corrects with a smirk, taking a little sip of her drink.

“Men love me, what can I say.” Jooheon huffs, purses his lips, and although Hyunwoo doesn’t know him well, simply based on appearance, he doesn’t doubt that statement.

“Especially the cops.” Minhyuk says.

“Especially the cops…” Jooheon’s expression is wistful. There’s a story there.

“But they probably love you more.” He says to Changkyun, one of his obvious attempts to fish for compliments.

“They love you more Jooheon, trust me.” Changkyun reassures him. “You’re a beast up there.” He adds. Minhyuk despite having his head on Changkyun’s shoulder cocked to an awkward angle nods in agreement.

“Thanks.” Jooheon says, fiddling with the hem of his jacket sleeve as he attempts to hide a satisfied smile. The action reminds Hyunwoo of how he responds to compliments himself. Although he often takes them poorly because he feels unworthy of them, Jooheon seems to be basking in the attention he’s receiving.

That attention doubles when a small group of people approach their table, worm their way into the conversation and commend Minhyuk’s friends for their performance. Jooheon suddenly stands and pull each of the strangers into hugs, as if they’re all old friends, and Hyunwoo realizes that they might be just that.

Hyunwoo checks out as soon as they start discussing some musicians that he is vastly unfamiliar with, he tries to listen but it's nearly impossible to follow without context. He feels more and more like an outsider the more enthusiastic they get about whoever it is they’re talking about. So he just sits back and takes small sips of his drink, face scrunching at the taste.

Minhyuk at some point must notice his absence in the conversation, because he releases Changkyun from his grasp, scoots over to the end of the booth, and taps Hyunwoo on the shoulder.

“Hey,” He says, expression less bright than usual, his tone even calmer. The alcohol must be making him tired. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Only partially true.

Minhyuk frowns. “This place doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it? I know it might not be your kind of scene—”

“No, no, it’s cool.” He quickly reassures. Then gestured to the crowd that has accumulated around their table. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Minhyuk laughs. “Yeah, I sorta check out when they talk about other bands.” He drapes his arm over Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “I’m glad your back, now I don’t have to suffer alone.”

Hyunwoo smiles, it’s nice to hear that someone cares that he’s back.

Eventually the group disperses and they’re back to the original five. Jooheon slumps back in his seat and fixes his gaze on Hyunwoo, it's a little discomforting.

“So what do you do, Hyunwoo?” Yeojoo asks unprompted, her curiosity seems genuine.

“I work at a pottery studio.” He says

“Oh! That’s neat, do you teach classes?” She asks.

“Yes.” He confirms, but feels self conscious suddenly. It sounds unimpressive. “It’s only temporary, I’m looking for something that pays more.”

All the attention has turned onto him and he becomes tense under their gazes.

“I wanna make pottery...” Changkyun says under his breath.

“We should take one of your classes!” Minhyuk excitedly suggests, and wraps his arms around Hyunwoo to shake some excitement into him.

“You can, if you’d like to.” Hyunwoo’s a little surprised by their responses. He’d expected them to be uninterested, like most people he met. Pottery isn’t nearly as cool as being in a band, but maybe he’s just begun to believe what he’s been told.

“I could make something for Dodo..” Yeojoo mutters thoughtfully, already blueprinting the plans in her mind.

“Would I have to make a bowl?” Minhyuk asks.

“You can make whatever you want.” Hyunwoo says, with a reassuring pat on the back.

“Nice!” Minhyuk gets up so quick he practically jumps away from him, head falling onto Changkyun’s lap, they both look at each other and giggle. Their giggles turn into hushed whispers that Yeojoo would rather not overhear so she scoots away and bumps Jooheon. he doesn’t seem to notice off in his own little world. He’s drumming a little beat on the table, it’s amusing at first but quickly becomes obnoxious. Yeojoo cuts his one man performance short by grabbing him by the wrist.

“Stop.” She says, gentler than before. Jooheon does as she says, albeit begrudgingly. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back with a huff, but only manages to stay still for maybe five seconds, his mind is sparatic.

“I needa smoke.” He digs a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, slips it between his lips, but Yeojoo snatches it from him before he can light it.

“Nope, not inside.” She scolds.

Jooheon groans and stands to his feet. “Alright fine.” He glances over at Hyunwoo. “You smoke?”

“Um, sometimes.” He says, a more honest answer would be rarely ever. He smoked once or twice while serving, persuaded by a few of the troops he was closer to, but it never did much for him other than leave a burning sensation in his lungs. And yet he finds himself following Jooheon up the stairway and outside into the alley.

The door shuts behind them, silencing the distorted music that follows, it leaves them alone together with only the busy ambience of Seoul. Jooheon turns his back to him, walks toward the busy streets and lights a cigarette.

It’s chilly outside, Hyunwoo’s thankful for it, the bar had left him sweaty, too much body heat packed into such a small space. The cool air isn’t as welcoming for Jooheon, still shirtless beneath his jacket, he shivers a bit as he walks back toward Hyunwoo, but makes no move to zip up.

“Minhyuk told me you just got back from the military.” Jooheon says, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I’ve been on leave for a few months, actually.” He explains.

“And your what… 26?” Jooheon guesses, gesturing up and down Hyunwoo with the burning end of the bud between his fingers.

“28.”

“Oh, you waited as long as you could, huh?” It should sound like a joke, but there’s something almost sympathetic in Jooheon’s tone. A subtly implication that maybe Hyunwoo had been afraid to enlist, which isn’t entirely untrue, but fear wasn’t his reason for postponing enlistment.

“I wanted to finish college first.”

“Ah.” Jooheon nods, the details of his face are more defined in the street lights. Until now, Hyunwoo hadn’t noticed the silver ring snug around his bottom lip. He wishes he hadn’t noticed, it quickly becomes distracting.

“Have you served?” He asks, redirecting his attention to Jooheon’s eyes.

“Yep. As soon as I could.” Jooheon’s standing only a few feet away now, toeing at the rubble with his boot. “It fucked me up pretty bad.”

Hyunwoo swallows thickly, he desperately wants to say me too, but the words get caught in his throat. “I’m sorry.” He says instead, it’s all he can seem to say anymore.

Jooheon shrugs, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out another cigarette. He steps forward and silently offers it to Hyunwoo. He accepts the cigarette and slips it between his lips, wiggles it up and down until Jooheon leans over to light it.

“I don’t paint..” Hyunwoo confesses quietly, they’re close enough that he thinks only the two of them could hear it.

“Me neither, never been good at that sorta thing.” Jooheon says, a hand cupped around the zip lighter as the flame flickers to life, it illuminates the small cavern of his palm, and Hyunwoo wonders faintly if they’re as soft as they look.

“No, I can paint.” He says through his teeth, the bud finally catches and he leans back into the brick wall behind him. He chokes a bit on the first inhale, the burn is more unpleasant than he remembers. “But I haven’t. Not since I’ve been back.” It doesn’t make sense, not really, but Jooheon nods like it does, and Hyunwoo believes he understands more than anyone else would.

They don’t say much after that. Jooheon paces around a bit, observes the minute details of the architecture, kicks stray rocks across the ground, until he gets bored and settles back beside him, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall.

They smoke in comfortable silence, until Jooheon starts shivering. Hyunwoo catches him out of the corner of his eye, bottom lip jutted out and trembling. His jacket is practically hanging off his shoulders, and he’s making no move to fix it, so Hyunwoo turns and grabs him by the lapels. Jooheon’s eyes get wide and the cigarette falls from his lips, snuffed beneath his boot as he’s tugged forward. Hyunwoo ignores his shock, grabs his jacket zipper and gently slides it upward, it gets caught a few times but he eventually secures it shut.

Nonchalantly as ever, with another drag of his cigarette he steps back. Jooheon just stares at him dumbfounded, he should no longer be cold but his lip still quivers as if he is.

“What?” Hyunwoo asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“I—” Jooheon laughs. “—thought you were going to kiss me—” He doubles over, head bumping against Hyunwoo’s chest. “—but you just zipped up my jacket like—like my mom or something.” Hyunwoo reaches out to stabilize him during his laughing fit. It takes nearly a minute for him to calm down, and when he stands upright, there are tears in his eyes.

He can’t stop giggling, smiling so wide his dimples look more like craters, and Hyunwoo feels beyond stupid for zipping up this man’s jacket when he had such a perfect opportunity to make a move.

“I wouldn’t kiss you without asking.” Although true, they both know it’s an excuse.

“Then ask me.” Jooheon challenges, stepping into his space. The grit of his voice ignites something in Hyunwoo, an urge he’s felt since the moment he laid eyes on him.

Yet all he can do is stare, taken aback, as he genuinely considers it, how easy it would be to close the space between them. He tilts his head forward, lips parted, the question on the tip of his tongue.

Then he inhales the sharp scent of alcohol on Jooheon’s breath, and the question is gone in an instant.

Of course this man couldn’t be genuinely interested in him, it’s alcohol on the mind, persuading his view.

Jooheon must hold his liquor well, if Hyunwoo hadn’t seen him take a few shots earlier he may have mistaken him for sober, but his breath clearly says otherwise. Never could he take advantage of his tipsy state.

They’ve been standing there for what feels like a solid minute, noses just inches apart, Jooheon looking at him so eagerly, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, but before Hyunwoo can explain his hesitance, Jooheon shoves him in the shoulder.

“I’m just joking.” He says, and takes a step back, the shove hadn’t budged Hyunwoo in the slightest. The tension between them dissipates along with the closeness, and Hyunwoo immediately finds it easier to breathe.

A joke, duh. Hyunwoo forces a laugh. “Ah—okay.” Even a drunk man isn’t interested in you.

“The mood was getting awkward.” Jooheon explains, reaches toward his pocket for another cigarette but Hyunwoo gently stops him and offers his own.

“No reason to waste another.” He reasons. Jooheon is reluctant, but takes it anyway, stubs off the end before relighting it, a hint of a smile on his lips as he takes a drag.

“An indirect kiss. Cute.” He says, dimples there for the touching. Hyunwoo laughs genuinely this time, the mixed signals Jooheon is sending him are confusing.

“Call it what you want.” He says, still smiling as he gazes over to watch the smoke drip from Jooheon’s lips. When Jooheon turns to look at him, his eyes dart away, suddenly finding the gravel beneath his shoes far more interesting.

It’s quiet for a good bit after. A few people interrupt the silence as they leave the bar, drunkenly chattering, but Hyunwoo doesn’t so much as glance at them, too busy caught up in his thoughts. He wishes he could not overthink this, but there’s too much for him to consider. If his parents knew he’s been flirting with a man the night before their little setup date, he doesn’t know what they’d do. He just knows they’d be unhappy.

That familiar weight of guilt weighs heavy in his chest.

Jooheon stubs out his cigarette and tosses it on the ground. “I needa drink.” He says, eyes closed and head tilted back against the bricks. “How about you?”

“I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.” Hyunwoo replies, watching him as he passes.

“Okay, suit yourself.” Jooheon says, and disappears from his line of sight. For a moment he can hear the distant music again, until the door shuts with a soft click.

He lets out a deep breath, all tension in his muscles relaxes. He hadn’t noticed how stiff he’d become, nervous just from Jooheon’s presence. A little time to himself to refresh is exactly what he needs. He’s not sure how long he stands there, thinking about everything and nothing, staring at the wall opposite of him. He glances at his phone every now and again, scrolls mindlessly through social media apps he rarely ever uses. There’s a few messages from his mom, telling him to get home safely and drink responsibly, they were sent hours ago. It’s nearly midnight now. He hopes she’s sleeping well, not awake worried about him. He sends a short reply, telling her he hasn’t drank anything alcoholic and that he’s actually made a few friends. Hopefully she’s asleep, and won’t see it until tomorrow morning when he’s home and can explain his night to her in person.

Still, he wants to get home soon, give his mother a clear conscious, and maybe also because socializing has worn him out.

He goes back inside. If the crowds smaller, he can’t tell, it’s not any easier finding Minhyuk. He does spot someone else though, Yeojoo, she’s the only one still sitting at the table where he’d left her.

“He’s in the bathroom.” She says before he can even say hello.

“Ah—why?” He asks, stumbles a bit over his words.

“Jooheon tried to show off and it didn’t go so well.” Not the reason he expected. “He puked.”

“Is he okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, he just overdid it.” Yeojoo doesn’t look too worried, so that puts his mind a bit at ease. “What’d you guys talk about out there?”

“Uhm,” Hyunwoo’s mind is half gone, and supplies him with imagery of Jooheon’s lip ring and flirtatious smile. “military service, mostly.” He says.

“Ah, that explains it.” She says, and Hyunwoo isn’t quite sure what she means by that. “Whatcha need Minhyuk for?”

“I was gonna head home.”

“Oh, I could tell him for you?” She says, and he considers the offer for a moment, but decides it’d be rude to leave without giving Minhyuk a proper goodbye.

“No, it’s okay.” He says. “I’ll go.”

“Have fun!” Yeojoo says as he walks off in the direction she pointed toward earlier when mentioning the bathroom. “Watch your step in there Jooheon was like a firehose.”

She wasn’t exaggerating.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for that abrupt ending hdkfkdk  
> hope u still got somethin out of it


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